


Fire and Water

by Grundy



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: B2MEM 2019, Construction of Rivendell, Elrond is not as subtle as he thinks when it comes to Celebrían, F/M, Hall of Fire, Second Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-07 21:12:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17968139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grundy/pseuds/Grundy
Summary: In the mid Second Age, the Hall of Fire is beginning to take shape. Celebrían is adding a little touch of her own to it.





	Fire and Water

Elrond blinked in surprise.

Not that he begrudged his beloved – he called her that in the privacy of his head, at least, even if he could not properly make any mention of it to her yet – any accent she chose to add to what he hoped would be the centerpiece of his Homely House. Not least because he hoped it would yet prove to be _their_ Homely House.

Celebrían had found helping him design the house an excellent way to pass the time while Imladris had been under siege. Once the situation was no longer so dire, she had announced she would remain in the valley to see it built. They have discussed most design matters, but he has assured her repeatedly that she should feel free to add to or modify his designs, especially when it comes to the decoration and interior comforts. He wanted her to feel at home enough to stay, and he knew perfectly well that he had no clear sense of what was comfortable or homely to those used to Sindarin ways. 

All the same, this was a bit… unexpected.

He was probably the only one who would get the subtle joke.

Abalone shells were being carefully set in place according to the scheme marked off on one wall, transforming it into what was probably the most obviously Telerin thing this side of the Sea. Abalone… a word that in the pronunciation of this later age was rather close to what he knew to be the preferred Telerin pronunciation of Avallónë.

He did rather wonder about Celebrían’s motivation, though.

He decided he would wait rather than try to draw her attention. She was absorbed in her task, for she was not merely supervising the artisans working on the mosaic, she was helping. To his surprise, she looked in his direction almost at once, smiling as she caught sight of him.

“It’s looking marvelous already, my lady,” he greeted her.

“Just wait until it’s done,” she told him. “And until you actually light that central fire!”

He took her hand, and they walked to one end of the spacious hall.

“Out of curiosity, Lady Celebrían,” he began hesitantly.

“The shells are mostly from the Gulf of Lune,” she told him blithely. “It would have been nicer to have them brought from the Tol Eressëa itself, but the Numenoreans no longer make the journey regularly enough for me to be sure of them undertaking the commission.”

She sighed, for in her youth, there had been a trade route of sorts that reached to Valinor, with the men of Numenor acting as intermediaries between the Amanyar and their Exiled or sundered kin. Goods and occasionally even letters had been sent from Valinor. But since the revelation of Sauron, more ships departed Mithlond than arrived. The Numenorians had come to the aid of their elven allies, but once Sauron had been routed, they were more concerned with their own affairs than facilitating exchanges between Aman and Ennor as they had once done.

“That was not to be my question,” he replied with some amusement. “My question was why?”

She gave him a reproachful look.

“Elrond,” she said with a hint of exasperation in her voice. “Do you really think I haven’t noticed that you’ve snuck Fëanorion stars in here and there around the house? It’s occurred to me that the only reason this is the Hall of Fire is because it would be too bloody obvious for you to call it the Hall of Silmarils – more than just my parents would take it as a provocation!”

He had honestly thought he’d been subtle with those stars. Not many of them, and nowhere so prominent that Galadriel might take notice and protest. But in places where he would see them, and especially in places that were his…

“I did consider it,” he replied lightly, though he really hadn’t. He had never actually seen any of the fabled stones, and associated the word with the worst in the men who had raised him, the things that had in the end destroyed them. “But as I don’t have any silmarils handy…”

He had the distinct impression she’d bitten her tongue on whatever her first retort would have been. He was tempted to ask, but she spoke before he could.

“If you’re going to honor your Fëanorion heritage, I’m going to also put in something Lindarin. I don’t deny they did some good things, but that wasn’t all they did.”

There was more than a hint of challenge in her eyes.

He wasn’t about to fight with her about it. Her point was more than fair, even if her conclusion wasn’t entirely accurate. Fëanor might have been the Spirit of Fire, but that wasn’t why he was so set on his Hall of Fire. Besides, he was well aware of what his foster fathers had done in Alqualondë. He probably knew more of the Kinslayings than she did. Her mother had only been at two of them. Maedhros and Makalaurë had been at all three.

“I see no reason you shouldn’t,” he said mildly.

Maedhros, at least, would probably have found it fitting. Makalaurë would have simply found it painful. Somehow it had been forgotten on this side of the Sea that his wife was Telerin.

She looked surprised.

“You have put just as much work into the house as I have, if it is important to you to have a Telerin flourish in here, then I want you to have it.”

Celebrían waited, well acquainted enough with him by now to suspect there was more.

“But?” she prompted.

“But please don’t decide to exchange the fireplace for a fountain. A Hall of Fire without a fire would take some explaining. And irritating though your father finds it, I’m afraid I’m too Noldorin for sitting around a fountain for the telling of tales to have quite the same appeal.”

She laughed, and slipped her arm into his.

“I can agree to that. The mosaic won’t look half as good without that massive hearth to illuminate it anyway – I designed it with firelight in mind.”

He was rather taken with the vision he caught from her of what it should look like when it was finished, and the Hall not empty but filled with guests. Fire, and song, and of course, Celebrían there at his side…

“I look forward to it, my lady,” he told her, hoping he had managed to keep his voice even. “Just one more thing...”

“Yes?” she asked, sounding rather hopeful.

“I think you had better be the one to tell your mother about this.”


End file.
